Dancing at Midnight (16 page)

"I think I'd rather leave you out of it. Perhaps we could just start a

rumor that I'm planning to marry and not mention anyone in particular."

"And how far would /that /tale get?" Dunford countered. "Everyone in

London is planning to marry. Your fellow would never

hear of it, especially not if he's buried out in the country."

"No, but then again, he probably wouldn't hear any rumor no matter how

juicy. He doesn't keep up with the comings and goings

of the /ton. /The only way he'd find out we were planning to marry is if

we put an announcement in the /Times."/

Dunford paled at the thought.

"Just so," Belle replied. "The only way a rumor is going to reach him is

if it's not really a rumor but rather a piece of information

deliberately sent his way." She swallowed nervously, hardly able to

believe that she was considering such a scheme. "Perhaps

we could let Emma in on our plan. She could casually mention to John

that I was planning to marry. I won't have her use your name. I won't

have her mention any name at all—just tell him I'm about to announce an

engagement."

"It won't look odd her just happening to drop by?"

"They're neighbors. There is nothing suspicious about her stopping by to

say hello."

Dunford leaned back and smiled with glee, his even white teeth gleaming.

"An excellent strategy, Arabella. And it saves me

from having to pretend I'm in love with you."

She shook her head. "You're impossible."

"If your beau doesn't appear on the scene complete with white horse and

shiny armor to carry you off into the sunset, well,

then I'd have to say he probably wasn't worth his salt in the first place."

Belle wasn't completely sure about that, but she nodded anyway.

"In the meantime, we ought to get you out and about. This John

fellow—what did you say his last name was?"

"I didn't."

Dunford raised an eyebrow but didn't press her for details. "What I was

going to say is that your little lie isn't going to look

very convincing if he finds out that you've been holing yourself up in

this mausoleum since you arrived."

"No, I suppose not, but hardly anybody is in town now. There isn't very

much to get out and about to."

"As it happens I've been invited to what is sure to be an exceedingly

dreadful musicale tonight, and as the host is a distant

relation of mine I have no way to get out of it."

Belle's eyes narrowed. "This isn't one of your Smythe-Smith cousins

again, is it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I thought I told you that I would never attend another one of their

recitals. After the last one, I am convinced that I know

exactly how Mozart would sound if performed by a herd of sheep."

"What can you expect when you've been cursed with a name like

Smythe-Smith? At any rate, you haven't much choice.

We've already decided that you've got to get out and about, and I don't

see any other invitations coming your way." "How kind

of you to point that out." "I'll take that as a yes and come by to

escort you tonight. And don't look so glum. I suspect this beau

of yours will come sailing into town any day now, and then you'll be

saved from all future butcheries of music."

"He won't show up for at least two weeks, actually, because Emma is

acting as my chaperone until my parents return from Italy. She can't

very well be in two places at once, and anyway, I doubt he'd believe

I've fallen in love with someone else so quickly.

I'm afraid you're stuck with my company for a fortnight. Provided, of

course, that I don't have to attend any more musicales."

"I would never be so cruel. Until tonight, then, Belle." With a rakish

smile, Dunford rose, bowed smartly, and left the room.

Belle sat on the sofa for several minutes after his departure, wondering

why she couldn't have fallen in love with him instead of John. It would

make matters ever so much simpler. Well, maybe not that much simpler, as

Dunford wasn't the least bit in love

with her, at least not above the love of one friend to another.

Belle rose and headed up the stairs, wondering if she had set herself on

the right course of action. Failure would be exquisitely painful, but

she knew that she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't at

least try to carve out a life with John. She'd

just have to wait a couple of weeks.

*

*

*

*

*Chapter 10*

*

*

As it happened, Belle did not have to wait two weeks to set Dunford's

plan into motion. Precisely one week after she and Emma arrived in

London, Alex strode purposefully through the front door with a slightly

plump, middle-aged lady scurrying at his heels.

Belle happened to be walking through the hall when he burst into the

house. "Oh my," she breathed, observing the commotion

with an amused eye.

"Where is my wife?" Alex demanded.

"Upstairs, I think," Belle replied.

"Emma!" he called loudly. "Emma, get down here."

Within seconds Emma appeared at the top of the stairs. "Alex?" she said

disbelievingly. "What on earth are you doing here?

And who might your, er, guest be?"

"Your one week is up," he stated flatly. "I'm fetching you home."

"But—"

"And this," Alex cut her off forcefully and motioned to the lady at his

side, "is my great-aunt Persephone who has kindly

agreed to act as Belle's chaperone."

Belle surveyed Persephone's disheveled appearance and decidedly harried

expression and wondered if the lady had had any choice in the matter.

After shifting her gaze to Alex's determined visage, she decided that

Persephone most assuredly hadn't.

"Persephone?" Emma echoed weakly.

"My parents were interested in mythology," the lady said with a smile.

"You see," Alex said, "her parents liked mythology. That explains

everything."

"It does?" Belle asked.

Alex shot her such a withering glare that Belle closed her mouth with

alacrity. "Emma," he said softly, beginning a slow

march up the stairs. "It's time to come home."

"I know, I miss you, too, but I was only going to be another week, and I

cannot believe you dragged your aunt halfway across

the country."

Persephone smiled. "All the way across the country, actually. I'm from

Yorkshire."

Belle swallowed a laugh and decided that she and Persephone would suit

each other very well, indeed.

"Pack your belongings, Emma."

Belle and Persephone watched the couple with unconcealed interest until

they melted into each other's arms and Alex's lips captured Emma's in a

scorching kiss. At that point, Persephone turned away. Belle kept one

curious eye on the couple but

had the good grace to blush.

But they just kept on kissing and kissing until it grew quite awkward

for Belle, Persephone, and all six servants who were

standing in the front hall. Trying to make the best of a very strange

situation, Belle smiled brightly at Persephone and said,

"How do you do? I'm Lady Arabella Blydon, but I expect you know that

already."

The older woman nodded. "I am Miss Persephone Scott."

"It is nice to meet you, Miss Scott."

"Oh, please call me Persephone."

"And I am called Belle."

"Good, good. I imagine we will get on very well together." Persephone

glanced stiffly over her shoulder and cleared her throat. "Are they

still at it?" she asked in a whisper.

Belle looked up and nodded. "It's only for a week you know."

"They're going to do that for a /week?"/

"No," Belle laughed. "I meant my parents are due to return in a week.

Then you'll be free to do whatever you want."

"I expect I shall. Alex paid me a king's ransom to get me to come down

here."

"Really?"

"Yes. Of course, I'd have come if he'd only paid my traveling expenses.

I don't get down to London very often. It's quite an adventure. But

before I could say a thing, he came out and offered me a stupendous sum.

I accepted immediately."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Who, indeed." Persephone made a few awkward jerking motions with her head.

"Still kissing," Belle said, interpreting her signal correctly.

"Their behavior is not exactly, er, polite. Especially with a young

unmarried lady in the vicinity." She looked over at Belle and smiled.

"I've never been a chaperone before. How did I sound?"

"Not nearly stern enough."

"Was I not?"

"No, but I much prefer you this way. And don't worry about them." Belle

flicked her head over her shoulder at the passionate couple on the

second floor landing. "They are usually much more circumspect. I expect

it is just that they missed each other. They've been apart for a week,

you know."

"Well, I suppose we will have to excuse them. They certainly do love

each other."

"Yes, they do," Belle said softly, and then she knew that she was doing

the right thing about John because she really wanted someone in her life

who loved and desired her so much that he would kiss her for five

minutes straight in front of eight witnesses. And it stood to reason, of

course, that the man in question would have to be someone she would also

want so desperately that

she would return the kiss, onlookers be damned.

Belle sighed. It would have to be John. She suddenly realized, however,

that she hadn't yet told Emma about the plan. "Oh dear," she blurted

out. She had to find a moment alone with her before Alex dragged her off

to Westonbirt, and at the rate they were going, they would be joined at

the lips the entire way back.

"Is something wrong?" Persephone inquired.

"Oh dear." Belle darted up the stairs and grabbed Emma's hand out of

Alex's hair. "So sorry, Alex, it looked like fun, but I've

got to speak with Emma. It's quite important." She gave Emma a rather

vigorous tug. Alex had fallen into some kind of passion-induced haze,

and it was probably this weakness which allowed Belle to pull Emma out

of his embrace. Within

seconds, the two women were ensconced in Emma's bedroom. Belle quickly

locked the door. "I need you to do something

for me," she said.

Emma just stared at her blankly, still quite dazed from Alex's

passionate kiss.

Belle snapped her fingers a couple of times in front of her cousin's

face. "Hello? Wake up! You're not being kissed anymore."

"What? Oh, sorry. What do you need?"

Belle quickly laid out her plan. Emma wasn't certain that it would work

but said that she'd play her part. "Just one thing," she added. "Is he

really going to believe that you've gotten over him so quickly?"

"I don't know, but if he does come to London, he'll soon learn that I

have not been sitting here like a sad lump. Dunford's been making sure

that I've been introduced to any number of eligible bachelors. Three

earls last week and one marquess, I think.

It's really quite surprising how many people are here in London during

the offseason."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Belle confessed with a sigh. "But /I

/don't know what else to do."

*  *  *

John threw himself into his work at Bletchford Manor, overseeing

renovations on the house, and even helping out on one or

two of them. The physical labor was oddly soothing; occasionally he even

managed to think about something other than Belle.

The work on his house and the surrounding lands kept him busy during the

day, and he tried to devote his evenings to financial matters, eager to

rebuild the funds he had used to purchase Bletchford Manor. But as

evening melted into night, he found that his thoughts strayed to the

blond maiden who was presently residing three hours away in London. She

certainly had wasted no time

in getting as far away from him as possible.

He couldn't stop himself from recalling every moment he'd spent in her

company, and each scene he played out in his head was like a small

dagger to his heart. He woke up nearly every night hard and aroused, and

he knew that he'd been dreaming about

her. He thought briefly about heading to a nearby village to find a

woman who could satisfy his ache but gave up the idea,

realizing that no woman could make him feel better. No woman besides

Belle, at least.

He was surprised when Buxton announced that the Duchess of Ashbourne had

arrived. /You will not ask her about Belle, /

he told himself as he went to the blue salon to greet her.

"Hello, your grace," he said politely. Emma looked in fine spirits, and

her hair seemed especially bright.

"I thought I told you to call me Emma," she scolded.

"Sorry. Habit, I guess."

"How have you been?"

"Fine. How's Belle?" If he could have kicked himself without the duchess

noticing, he would have done so. Hard.

Emma smiled slyly as she realized that Belle's plan was going to be a

resounding success. "She's doing quite well, actually."

"Good. I'm happy for her." And he was, he supposed, although it would

have been nice if she had pined for him just a little bit.